The Perfect Spinster: A Regency Romance (The Not So Saintly Sisters Book 2)

by Annabelle Anders

  At last, she raised her gaze to meet his. “No one has caused me grief, My Lord.”

  “How is it you can make those two words sound more insulting than anything I ever called you in the past?” He narrowed his eyes. “If that’s the case, why are you crying?” It wasn’t fair of him to demand any sort of explanation from her, and yet, he couldn’t help himself.

  “I’m crying.” She lifted her chin obstinately, the same as she’d done on numerous occasions with him before. “I am crying because I am… happy.”

  “Right.” He stared at her levelly, noting that her left eye was moving more than usual. “If this is your idea of happiness, I’d certainly hate to come upon you when you’re upset.”

  She sent him an annoyed scowl and then went to pass by him.

  Not thinking if it was proper, or even fair, he reached out and grasped her arm. He did not expect the violent outburst of her response.

  “Let me go!” She tugged away with surprising strength. “Can you not simply leave me be? I’m a person, you realize? Not a toy, or, or some lowly creature here on earth to entertain you while you’re not otherwise occupied with that blasted mine. I do have feelings, you know. You inconsiderate, addlepated, arrogant…!”

  Her face had flushed red, causing her eyes to flash brighter than normal. Her chest heaved as she blasted him with her anger. What kind of a man was he that she aroused him even now while pummeling him with her insults?

  “What are you smiling about?” Her eyes narrowed.

  “Come, now, Olivia. Tell me what the matter is.” He released her arm in the hope that she wouldn’t take off running.

  He was in no mood to go chasing after this alluring piece of muslin, but dash it all, he would if necessary.

  Best not to examine why.

  “We are friends, are we not?” His question only seemed to anger her further.

  “The kind of friends who kiss one another? Oh, but wait. You are also the kind of friend who goes hot and cold whenever it’s most convenient for you. I can do just fine without friends like that.”

  He should have known that her mood would have had something to do with his boorish behavior the last time they’d been together. He’d just been so frustrated by all of it. His cock, hell, his heart and his head––all of them seemed to be waging a war with his emotions for this chit.

  And then the guards at the mine had informed him that Crawford was cutting corners in regard to safety matters.

  Damn Stanton for putting him in this situation. Only, he couldn’t really blame his friend. Gabriel had offered to stay, after all.

  The only bright spot in the middle of all of this had been Olivia.

  Lovely-eyed Livvy.

  Only he was beginning to believe she had become more of a complication than he’d initially anticipated.

  Not a complication. A lovely, enticing young woman that, if he wasn’t careful, could land one hell of a blow to his heart.

  “I’m sorry.” There was nothing else that he could say. “Won’t you forgive me? Again?” Had she ever forgiven him for all his other transgressions? “Might we try to be friends again?”

  But she was shaking her head. “I can no longer go gallivanting off alone with you. My…” She turned her head away, and he didn’t quite catch what she had said.

  In listening to her mumbling, an alarm bell sounded in his mind when he thought he’d deciphered something that sounded alarmingly close to the word ‘fiancé.’

  “Pardon me?”

  “Although my father doesn’t seem to care one way or the other, I believe that my fiancé would not appreciate me being alone with another unmarried gentleman, even at the adamant assertion that said gentleman is nothing more to me than a friend.”

  “Fiancé, Olivia?”

  Again, with that little lift of her chin. “Mr. Smith has proposed today, and I have accepted.”

  “I fail to come calling for three days and you betroth yourself to him?”

  “It’s none of your concern.”

  He rather felt as though she’d slapped him. Or kneed him. Because she spoke the truth. What right did he have to interfere in her life? He’d offered her nothing, despite compromising her horribly.

  The truth always hit harder than mere insults.

  If she wanted to tie herself to a life of hard labor, who the hell was he to advise her against it?

  Anger, unlike anything he’d known in years, threatened to unleash itself onto her tiny blonde self. “You’re a fool, Olivia,” he bit out.

  Fists at her side, she glared up at him, fire in those brilliant eyes of hers. “You speak as though my future is as full of promise as yours. Not only are you a male but a gentleman! An earl! I wish that for one moment you could step into my shoes and know the life of a woman, a flawed woman. Perhaps then you might understand what it’s like to be set aside—by my father, my mother—I know Louella has the best of intentions but it’s only right that she devotes herself to Stanton and soon she’ll…” Olivia turned away from him. “And now I sound like a self-pitying thankless harpy. Please, Gabriel. I can’t bear it.”

  “Because I am certain to set you aside as well.” The words tasted like bile as they left his mouth.

  She didn’t answer right away. And then she swiped a hand at her eyes and nodded. “Yes.” The word emerged on a harsh whisper.

  Gabriel stepped forward and dropped his hands upon her shoulder. “God, Olivia. Don’t do this!” He turned her around to face him, but she kept her gaze focused on his chin.

  He lifted it, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You’ll regret it.” And then because he couldn’t help himself—again, dishonorable ass that he was—he swooped down and captured her mouth with his.

  At first, she kept her mouth pinched together tightly, but as his tongue slid along the seam of her lips, she relented. He spread his feet wide and dragged her into him with the hand that had snaked around her waist.

  Her hands, which had initially come up to push him away, found their way into his hair and tugged him closer.

  Their teeth clashed as he turned his head to delve deeper into her. It was all he’d ever wanted, since holding her in the darkness of Crawford’s gazebo. He wanted inside of her, all of him, all of her.

  He dragged his mouth down her chin, her throat, and tugged at the bodice of her gown to expose her breasts.

  Creamy and plump, her fragrance enticed him to pull the tip into his mouth. “Olivia.” He sucked, drawing a moan from her, and then grazed her with his teeth. His cock hard, he held her against him. He needed this. He needed her.

  Tasting her had him lost to all reason, lost to the past, the future. Lost to anything but the desire to become one with this tiny sprite of a woman.

  And then she whimpered.

  And then a second, almost silent sob.

  When he glanced up, she stole his breath when a single tear escaped past her lashes and rolled down the sweet curve of her cheek.

  She wanted him. He could drag her into the trees and take her with all the passion that had built over these past few weeks. And yet he’d already hurt her. She’d given freely merely because he’d treated her with some affection.

  Just as Stanton had feared, Gabriel had taken advantage of her innocence.

  He closed his eyes, ashamed, sickened with himself, and then gently drew the material of her bodice upward. “I’m sorry.” The words escaped sounding gruff, filled with more emotion than he’d expected. “You ought to hate me.”

  She stiffened and took one shaky step backward. When he moved to assist her, she threw her hands up as though to ward him off.

  As though she couldn’t bear his nearness.

  “Don’t touch me, Gabriel, ever again.” Her voice wavered, but he paused. It was the least he could do.

  “Olivia.” He had no idea what he could say, his own heart cracking in two.

  She shook her head. “Please! Gabriel!”

  And then without looking back, she pivoted and took off r
unning down the poorly maintained road as though the hounds of hell themselves chased behind her.

  He could not follow.

  Gabriel closed his eyes as an emptiness he didn’t quite understand washed over him. It was better this way. He may be a gentleman, a man of title and wealth, but had acted like the most base of blackguards with her.

  And there was nothing he could do about it. His choices had been taken from him years before.

  Forgetting both his original destination and reason for coming this way, he untethered his mount and whipped himself into the saddle in one fluid motion. She would marry Luke Smith and live a life that would age her twenty years over the next five. He had no right to care.

  He turned his mount toward Ashton Acres and then abruptly changed his mind. He’d spend tonight drinking himself into oblivion at the nearest pub.

  He’d use what freedom he had in his entitled position to erase the image of Olivia Redfield from his mind. If not forever, then at least for tonight.

  And then he’d have a lifetime to wonder what could have been.

  “Hiya!” He urged the horse faster. God damned this blasted burgh. He could hardly wait for Stanton to return. He’d brush the dirt of this place off his boots forever and never return.

  They could have their damn mine. Keep their damn curse.

  And Olivia could have Luke Smith for a husband.

  Because she sure as hell could never have him.

  Chapter 14

  The Reality

  Olivia ran until the stitch in her side grew so painful she had no choice but to come to a halt, bend over, and catch her breath.

  Gabriel Fellowes would not be coming around again, and the thought brought with it an entirely different pain. The kind that left a void where her heart was supposed to be.

  Since the night of Louella’s ball, he’d treated her… normal. Better than normal. He’d treated her as though she were special. For a few short weeks, he’d managed to bring a spirited sense of joy into her life. If only he hadn’t brought hope along as well.

  Because when hope disappeared, despair took its place.

  He’d shown her a happiness that could never be hers.

  But his greatest sin by far was that the blasted man had made her fall in love with him.

  She closed her eyes, fighting regret that their embrace had not progressed to its natural conclusion. And immediately feeling guilty for that same regret.

  She’d wanted him. She’d wanted him so badly that it hurt. And not just for the physical satisfaction that she suspected it would bring, but because she’d wanted to be one with him! With Gabriel Fellowes, her friend, but the man who also happened to be an earl!

  She might as well have wished to become queen.

  Like a mantra, her father’s words echoed in her ears. No gentleman of any worth will make a respectable offer to a cockeyed gel.

  Knowing he’d been right… She gasped aloud, the truth bringing with it an almost physical pain.

  Had she stayed a second longer, she might have abandoned her resolve and thrown herself back into his arms. She had little willpower where he was concerned. And that was becoming very, very dangerous.

  When his mouth had captured hers, she’d given in to him in a matter of seconds. And then she’d wanted him to consume her, to fill her with himself.

  Fool, Olivia. Fool.

  She’d nearly ruined herself with one man less than an hour after promising herself to a different one.

  She couldn’t dwell on what she wanted anymore. She’d made a prudent decision for her future and, in doing so, provided herself with a very real purpose. She’d have a family.

  Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about him, Olivia! She wiped at her eyes angrily.

  Taking on Mr. Smith’s boys would be challenging enough that she’d not have any time to mull over the very real mistake she’d nearly made, who went by the name of Gabriel Fellowes.

  And she’d have a husband.

  She rose from her bent over position, smoothed her skirts, and set to walking at her normal brisk pace.

  She was going to have a home, not one that had been begrudgingly set aside for her to hide in by her father but a home where she was a member of a family. A home where, she hoped, she would find love.

  Not the all-consuming romantic kind that threatened to steal her sanity, but the kind that provided her with a foundation.

  Baby Harvey would be hers to care for, hers to mother.

  She lifted her chin, taking each step with more conviction.

  A new position would have to be found for Mary. The cottage was already bursting at the seams. Olivia would have to get used to doing all the household chores herself. And she was up to the task. She squared her shoulders. Women all over England managed households on their own.

  Having Mary by her side was not really necessary. She’d been a luxury, an extravagance.

  A friend.

  Olivia swallowed hard.

  Her future may not include the Earl of Kingsley, but she’d done the right thing.

  Please God, let me forget these feelings exist!

  Later that night, as she laid in the darkness, unbidden memories intruded to weaken her optimistic resolve. She would never forget the passion of the embrace they’d shared today. She’d belonged to him. He’d belonged to her. It had felt that way, anyhow.

  For one shining moment.

  She couldn’t help reliving the sensation of lying in the water, Gabriel’s hands at her back and waist. Or sitting in her small parlor, discussing the possible meanings behind Mary Shelley’s writings.

  Kissing him… tasting him… wanting him to fill her.

  And then she remembered that first night, in the garden. How he’d taken her to see the fountain. He’d intruded quite thoroughly into her world, where she’d find reminders at every turn.

  Lying on the grass, staring into his eyes as he’d traced the dandelion along her lips.

  She moaned a little and rolled onto her side.

  When sleep eventually came, what felt like hours later, rather than bring with it any rest, it assaulted her with images and nightmares.

  At first, the dreams were harmless enough. She was walking in the grass, laughing with Gabriel. And then she was alone. The sunshine turned to darkness, leaving her standing in the mouth of the mine. Gabriel’s voice echoed from deep within, angry and panicked. He was admonishing the duke’s workers below to get out because of the curse. And then a thunderous rumbling shook the ground, followed by masculine shouts and warnings. She backed up against the cold and damp wall as men rushed by her to get to safety, all the while, desperately watching for Gabriel.

  When she turned to go in search of him, rocks and dirt came crashing down. Into her hair, on her arms, the dirt got higher and higher and higher. Just a few feet away, Luke Smith stood talking with Gabriel, completely unconcerned that she was about to be buried alive.

  And then her father was there, handing both men each a handful of money. “You could have been so pretty.” Her mother’s words and voice drifted out of her father’s mouth.

  “Help me!” She struggled to get the words out.

  “Good riddance to the curse,” her father said, causing all of them to turn and watch as the last of the dirt covered her face.

  “Help me!”

  Olivia sat up in her bed, gasping and covered in perspiration. It had only been a dream. Lightning flashed inside her room, and then receding thunder rumbled in the distance.

  A nightmare brought on by the storm no less. Gulping in mouthfuls of air, she glanced outside, relieved to see the clouds moving away, a faded gray light visible in the east. Morning wasn’t far off.

  She could dress and attend to her morning chores before heading over to the Smith household. Even as she climbed out of bed, her knees wobbled, and her hands shook.

  Such a horrid dream!

  She soaked a cloth in the basin of lavender water on the bureau and scrubbed it over her face. Her han
ds had stopped shaking by now, but the wet cloth could not wash away the unsettling emotions left over from the nightmare. Terror… fear…

  Shame.

  Not bothering to wake her maid, Olivia dressed and then took the next few hours to pull the weeds that had sprung up in her garden. The water had soaked the ground making her task easy although she might have preferred them to put up more of a fight so she could work off some of her frustrations.

  When dark clouds moved in again just before the nuncheon, she gathered her shovel, removed her gloves, and then located Mary, who was putting on some hot water for tea.

  “Will you go to the Smith cottage despite the rain?” the other woman asked.

  “The twins might be afraid of the thunder. Mrs. Markham is there but dealing with all the children together alone is challenging enough when the sun is shining.”

  “You leave me here feeling guilty, I ought to be looking over you, Miss Olivia, but you’re away all day looking after those poor babes.” Mary kept the dower house spotless, though. In addition to laundering all the bedding and clothes, she mended and sewed and dusted and handled anything else that needed attention.

  Olivia hadn’t the heart to inform Mary of her decision to marry Luke Smith. What difference would a few days make?

  “You’ve been dealt a poor hand.” Olivia sipped from the warm glass. “Living down here with me, you’ve managed to take on the tasks of at least three people, rather than simply act as my lady’s maid.”

  Mary could not be much older than Olivia. As a very young girl, she had come to work for her parents just after Will had been born.

  Olivia had already lost Louella; now she would lose Mary as well. She blinked away such melancholy, annoyed with herself for so many mawkish thoughts.

  Mary reached out and patted Olivia’s hand, which had been resting on the table. “I wouldn’t trade you for the world. And I love being with you, you know. We never get bored, do we? We cook, we bake. And together we’ve turned that plot of rocks outside into the most enviable garden in all of England.”